My Fuzzy Valentine - Pt 4
Here's the last part of this little story... it's a VERY long part, so enjoy it! I hope that none of it seems too OOC or unrealistic. Let me know if you think it does, and of course I love all other feedback as well :) And so does STEVE!
My Fuzzy Valentine - Pt 4
Six-fifteen and House sat at his piano still nursing his glass of scotch. He’d considered gulping it down and starting on another but had decided that as amusing as it might be to greet Cameron at the door completely sloshed, she probably wouldn’t stick around for long if he did. In the past that would have been the perfect reason to knock back two or three more shots. As it was, she was fifteen minutes late and he was annoyed at how antsy he was. Steve, meanwhile, was playing it cool and burrowing through his shavings looking for the last of the treats House had hidden there that morning.
House played through a few songs, hitting the keys lightly, ear tuned for the sound of Cameron’s car door slamming. She’d only been over a handful of times but he had that sound trapped in his memory, along with most of their conversations.
It had only been a few weeks between the truck rally rat-sitting job and New Year’s Eve, but he’d actually become somewhat accustomed to her presence during that time. His casual invitations to grab take-out, take care of Steve and watch television had never been turned down. It had been a comfortable arrangement until his obsession with Stacy reached fever-pitch and he abruptly stopped talking to Cameron about anything non-work related. The fact that Cameron was now the one making the overtures towards a fresh start was something that left him wondering about her tenacity, her capacity for forgiveness, and her sanity.
He hadn’t wiped her from his mind during those weeks, no matter what it must have looked like. Stacy’s sudden switch from aloof adversary to needy, conflicted near-lover had thrown him for a loop and made him reconsider everything. She was ready to give him everything he thought he wanted. His dogged pursuit was finally going to be rewarded. Yet when their lips met in that non-descript hotel room, after that truly inane speech of hers, he couldn’t help but feel that she wouldn’t be the only one being unfaithful if they continued.
Luckily the phone had rung at that moment. Cameron on the other end, needing his expertise. He had no doubt that without that interruption, he and Stacy would have fallen into bed together and relearned all the spots that made one another groan. It wouldn’t have changed anything except to make her feel guilty and him feel mad about feeling guilty. In the end he’d still come to the same conclusion he’d reached in the middle of that kiss: that there really was no going back, and that a relationship between he Stacy would never work out.
Stacy had left the following week, and he’d been avoiding everyone ever since, trying to reconcile his own conflicted feelings.
He was staring down into his glass when a knock at the door jerked him back to the present. Perching it on top of a stack of books atop the piano, and grabbing his cane instead, he made his way to the front door.
“Showtime, Steve. I hope you put on your best cologne.”
*
Cameron lived only ten minutes from the Princeton campus, and she had circled it twice before heading towards House’s street on the other side. Twice she had reconsidered what she was doing; setting herself up to be humiliated, laying herself open to be disappointed, settling for being the consolation prize in House’s romantic life. Because she had to wonder if that’s all that she was. What had Wilson said? Stacy was gone, but she was still around? So she won by default? By being masochistic enough to put up with House’s crap? She knew that wasn’t what he had meant, but on the scale of probabilities, it ranked high.
She had to remind herself of the little things that had passed between them long before Stacy’s reappearance. Of the way he had spoken gently to her when he found her crying. Of the present he’d left on her chair. Of the corsage, even if the rest of the date had been a disaster. She had also reminded herself about Steve. Possibly the lamest excuse ever for initiating contact, yet he had been the one to start it. And he hadn’t laughed or hung up on her when she’d continued the now-convenient game.
Standing in front of his door now, with two bags in her left hand and her right hand poised to knock, she took one more steadying breath. No matter what happened, at least she wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day alone.
She let her small fist rap against the heavy green door three times in quick succession and then listened. She’d seen his car outside so she knew he was home, and she didn’t think he’d pretend otherwise. There was the muted sound of footsteps and the rubber on wood of a cane thumping along beside them.
“You’re late,” he said as he swung the door open.
Instinct told her to duck her head and look at him through lowered lashes, but instead she raised her chin and met his piercing gaze steadily.
“Traffic, and the restaurant was slow,” she told him.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the larger of the bags she carried.
“Romano’s? I think their food may be a bit rich for Steve,” he quipped.
“Well I have to eat, and I had to bring enough for you, too. It would have been rude otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” he said blandly as he ushered her inside.
She knew her way to the kitchen and walked there quickly, placing both bags on the small table under the window.
“Plates?” she said over her shoulder.
“So now I’m your waiter?”
She smirked and felt herself relaxing. “No, you’re the man who’s getting free Italian food out of the deal. Now bring me a couple of plates.”
House was surprised at her self-assured attitude. It was something he expected more from himself. He noticed though, when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye with just the hint of hesitation. For some reason, that slight sign of insecurity made him feel better. He didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t know what the hell was going on.
He carried two plates and silverware over to her and stood behind her while she portioned out the food. Chicken parmigiana, linguini, mixed vegetables, and rolls emerged from the plan brown bag along with a bottle of merlot.
“Steve’s not old enough to drink,” House said as she pulled out the attractively labeled bottle.
“I figured you could have his share,” she said dryly.
“Touche.”
She grinned but didn’t let him see it. When she turned around she had the plates in her hands. House was staring at her and she could tell that he was thinking something that he would probably never tell her about.
“Can you grab the other bag and the wine?” she asked.
“If I must,” he groused half-heartedly and then picked up both items, tucking the bottle under his arm so that he could grab two wine glasses on the way to the living room.
Cameron had set the plates down on the coffee table by the time he joined her, and she reached out for the white plastic bag he was carrying.
“This is for Steve,” she said, reaching inside and extracting a package of heart-shaped rat cakes. She cooed gently as she approached Steve’s cage while unwrapping them. House rolled his eyes but watched with interest and a slightly upturned mouth. “Come on, Steve. Here’s your present,” she said and the furry creature immediately stopped what he was doing and ran to the side of the cage.
She poked one treat through the bars and watched while Steve held it in his tiny paws and nibbled on it. The grin on her face couldn’t be restrained and without even thinking about it, she shot it over her shoulder at House.
“He likes it,” she said happily.
House was on the verge of grinning stupidly himself, but he stopped in the nick of time although Cameron caught the twitching around his eyes. “Of course he likes it. It’s food from the hand of a babe. What’s not to like?”
“Nice,” Cameron said with exasperation, making her way back to the sofa. “First lobby art, now a babe. Is that a lateral or upward career move?”
Her words masked the fact that she was thrown off-balance by his remark, although they did nothing to control her blush. He’d never exactly been shy about making comments about her and to her, but that was at the hospital, where they could easily be pushed aside as part of his irreverent work style. Here at his townhouse, just the two of them and Steve, it was harder to figure out if there was a deeper meaning behind his snaky comments.
“Food’s getting cold,” was his reply, and Cameron decided to let it drop.
What should have been a completely awkward meal was only partly so, with House turning on the television, as usual, and Cameron slipping into the comfortable niche she’d formed for herself before New Year’s Eve. They ate and watched General Hospital and sniped at the bad acting and implausible plotlines. As soon as she’d finished her meal, Cameron let Steve out of his cage, and she finished watching the show with him perched on her shoulder.
House wasn’t sure when that had all become almost normal, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling that such domesticity set to churning in the pit of his stomach. This would never work. It hadn’t worked with Stacy. Why would it work with Cameron? He was crazy for even letting her come over.
“Looks like Steve is going for second base,” he commented as the rat nibbled at Cameron’s neck and eased himself towards her cleavage. His tone was sharp and hard, making her look towards him in surprise.
“What’s the matter? Jealous?” she snapped back.
“Well, in the short term, Steve may satisfy you, but he snores and sleeps late and refuses to talk about his emotions,” he replied, feeling himself settle into the familiar bantering mode that had served him so well for so long.
“Sounds just like his father,” she countered one eyebrow raised in challenge.
House hadn’t expected a comeback. He’d expected her to softly demure and give him the chance to lob another insult and then another and another until she gave up playing house and left. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen and he stared at her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, reassessing the situation.
“You’re feisty tonight,” he said, leaning back with an air of nonchalance which he wasn’t really feeling.
“Life is short,” she said, serious rather than playful as she had been a second earlier. “I’m trying not to waste it anymore.”
Knowledge of exactly what had recently reinforced that viewpoint for her made his stomach tense. It was an automatic response now every time he thought about it. He’d tried to avoid doing so.
“You’re due to get your test this week,” he said abruptly.
She blinked a few times, mildly surprised that he hadn’t responded to her with another bantering remark.
“I know,” she said. “I have an appointment on Thursday.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the television. He couldn’t make her leave, so he would ignore her instead.
“You kissed me,” she said suddenly, causing House to snap his head around to face her.
“What?”
“New Year’s Eve,” she clarified as if such explanation was necessary. “You kissed me. Should I be expecting that to happen again? Or was that it? A one time thing, with me as a stand-in for the ex you’ve decided you’re through with after all.”
“Feisty and blunt,” House said, buying himself some time to come up with an answer.
“I’ve been blunt before,” she said simply, and he realized that she was right. Aside from the lack of venom, her honesty at times had rivaled his own.
“You’re nothing like her,” he said, as if that was enough of an answer.
She kept her eyes trained on his face but didn’t say anything. She wanted more, but she didn’t want to have to drag it out of him. Her expression was one of guarded openness, as if she was ready for anything he might say.
“I don’t do well with direct questions. You know that,” he said sharply.
A tired sigh preceded Cameron’s next words. “I know.” She stood up and walked over to Steve’s cage, settling him gently inside and rubbing him softly behind the ears. “I should go.”
House lurched to his feet. This was what he’d wanted. Right? Her gone. Things back to normal. Pre-Stacy. Pre-kiss. Pre-feelings that conflicted with the way he’d chosen to live his life. Alone. Except that tight feeling in his stomach was back and it didn’t have anything to do with her HIV status.
He followed her to the door where she tugged her coat on and glanced back over at Steve’s cage.
“If you need me to watch him, or check in on him for you…I’ll still do that,” she said.
“Of course you will. Because you’re Allison Cameron. All-around good person,” he said, only lightly sarcastic.
“Right,” she responded, staring into his eyes and trying to see through them to what he was really thinking, as if to see that would be to understand everything and to recapture that hope she’d nursed for two long months.
She was half-way out the door when he grabbed her and pulled her back, mashing his lips against hers and snuggling her body tight to his own. She felt his heat, his heart, his breath, and she gasped into the kiss, opening her mouth and letting his tongue explore. This was like New Year’s Eve, but magnified. Needier. Hungrier. More desperate. She clung to him and this time his arms stayed around her and held her closer with every heartbeat. It ended with the two of them wrenching themselves away and staring at each other as if stunned by what had just happened.
“Another tradition?” Cameron asked quietly.
“Maybe,” House replied.
Cameron’s breath was still ragged, but it settled down as she stood there memorizing the scruffy face leaning over her. She reached up one hand to lightly touch his jaw.
“Maybe,” she repeated.
“I’ll perform your test for you tomorrow. My office. Nine a.m.”
She started to shake her head but he tightened the grip he still had on her shoulders. “All right,” she agreed quietly.
House looked over at Steve’s cage. The little rat was curled up in a thick pile of bedding. “Looks like you tired him out. You sure know how to show a rat a good time.”
“He’s probably the best valentine I ever had,” Cameron said lightly, continuing to pull herself together.
“Takes after his namesake.”
“Obviously.”
They hovered there, in his doorway, the cold air pushing past them and into the room while they stared at each other awkwardly. House knew the salutation he was expected to give, but wouldn't, the same way he would never buy a heart-shaped box of chocolates or a sappy card. He knew, but more importantly, she needed to know, too.
“I’m not going to say it,” he said as the wind blew a few flakes of snow into the entry way.
“I know you aren’t,” she replied as she slowly broke away and started down the stairs, with the smallest, sensitive smile on her lips. “But that won’t stop me,” she continued. “Happy Valentine’s Day, House,” she called out softly.
He shook his head and watched her get into her car. He wouldn’t say the words, but he was thinking them as she drove away.
My Fuzzy Valentine - Pt 4
Six-fifteen and House sat at his piano still nursing his glass of scotch. He’d considered gulping it down and starting on another but had decided that as amusing as it might be to greet Cameron at the door completely sloshed, she probably wouldn’t stick around for long if he did. In the past that would have been the perfect reason to knock back two or three more shots. As it was, she was fifteen minutes late and he was annoyed at how antsy he was. Steve, meanwhile, was playing it cool and burrowing through his shavings looking for the last of the treats House had hidden there that morning.
House played through a few songs, hitting the keys lightly, ear tuned for the sound of Cameron’s car door slamming. She’d only been over a handful of times but he had that sound trapped in his memory, along with most of their conversations.
It had only been a few weeks between the truck rally rat-sitting job and New Year’s Eve, but he’d actually become somewhat accustomed to her presence during that time. His casual invitations to grab take-out, take care of Steve and watch television had never been turned down. It had been a comfortable arrangement until his obsession with Stacy reached fever-pitch and he abruptly stopped talking to Cameron about anything non-work related. The fact that Cameron was now the one making the overtures towards a fresh start was something that left him wondering about her tenacity, her capacity for forgiveness, and her sanity.
He hadn’t wiped her from his mind during those weeks, no matter what it must have looked like. Stacy’s sudden switch from aloof adversary to needy, conflicted near-lover had thrown him for a loop and made him reconsider everything. She was ready to give him everything he thought he wanted. His dogged pursuit was finally going to be rewarded. Yet when their lips met in that non-descript hotel room, after that truly inane speech of hers, he couldn’t help but feel that she wouldn’t be the only one being unfaithful if they continued.
Luckily the phone had rung at that moment. Cameron on the other end, needing his expertise. He had no doubt that without that interruption, he and Stacy would have fallen into bed together and relearned all the spots that made one another groan. It wouldn’t have changed anything except to make her feel guilty and him feel mad about feeling guilty. In the end he’d still come to the same conclusion he’d reached in the middle of that kiss: that there really was no going back, and that a relationship between he Stacy would never work out.
Stacy had left the following week, and he’d been avoiding everyone ever since, trying to reconcile his own conflicted feelings.
He was staring down into his glass when a knock at the door jerked him back to the present. Perching it on top of a stack of books atop the piano, and grabbing his cane instead, he made his way to the front door.
“Showtime, Steve. I hope you put on your best cologne.”
*
Cameron lived only ten minutes from the Princeton campus, and she had circled it twice before heading towards House’s street on the other side. Twice she had reconsidered what she was doing; setting herself up to be humiliated, laying herself open to be disappointed, settling for being the consolation prize in House’s romantic life. Because she had to wonder if that’s all that she was. What had Wilson said? Stacy was gone, but she was still around? So she won by default? By being masochistic enough to put up with House’s crap? She knew that wasn’t what he had meant, but on the scale of probabilities, it ranked high.
She had to remind herself of the little things that had passed between them long before Stacy’s reappearance. Of the way he had spoken gently to her when he found her crying. Of the present he’d left on her chair. Of the corsage, even if the rest of the date had been a disaster. She had also reminded herself about Steve. Possibly the lamest excuse ever for initiating contact, yet he had been the one to start it. And he hadn’t laughed or hung up on her when she’d continued the now-convenient game.
Standing in front of his door now, with two bags in her left hand and her right hand poised to knock, she took one more steadying breath. No matter what happened, at least she wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day alone.
She let her small fist rap against the heavy green door three times in quick succession and then listened. She’d seen his car outside so she knew he was home, and she didn’t think he’d pretend otherwise. There was the muted sound of footsteps and the rubber on wood of a cane thumping along beside them.
“You’re late,” he said as he swung the door open.
Instinct told her to duck her head and look at him through lowered lashes, but instead she raised her chin and met his piercing gaze steadily.
“Traffic, and the restaurant was slow,” she told him.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the larger of the bags she carried.
“Romano’s? I think their food may be a bit rich for Steve,” he quipped.
“Well I have to eat, and I had to bring enough for you, too. It would have been rude otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” he said blandly as he ushered her inside.
She knew her way to the kitchen and walked there quickly, placing both bags on the small table under the window.
“Plates?” she said over her shoulder.
“So now I’m your waiter?”
She smirked and felt herself relaxing. “No, you’re the man who’s getting free Italian food out of the deal. Now bring me a couple of plates.”
House was surprised at her self-assured attitude. It was something he expected more from himself. He noticed though, when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye with just the hint of hesitation. For some reason, that slight sign of insecurity made him feel better. He didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t know what the hell was going on.
He carried two plates and silverware over to her and stood behind her while she portioned out the food. Chicken parmigiana, linguini, mixed vegetables, and rolls emerged from the plan brown bag along with a bottle of merlot.
“Steve’s not old enough to drink,” House said as she pulled out the attractively labeled bottle.
“I figured you could have his share,” she said dryly.
“Touche.”
She grinned but didn’t let him see it. When she turned around she had the plates in her hands. House was staring at her and she could tell that he was thinking something that he would probably never tell her about.
“Can you grab the other bag and the wine?” she asked.
“If I must,” he groused half-heartedly and then picked up both items, tucking the bottle under his arm so that he could grab two wine glasses on the way to the living room.
Cameron had set the plates down on the coffee table by the time he joined her, and she reached out for the white plastic bag he was carrying.
“This is for Steve,” she said, reaching inside and extracting a package of heart-shaped rat cakes. She cooed gently as she approached Steve’s cage while unwrapping them. House rolled his eyes but watched with interest and a slightly upturned mouth. “Come on, Steve. Here’s your present,” she said and the furry creature immediately stopped what he was doing and ran to the side of the cage.
She poked one treat through the bars and watched while Steve held it in his tiny paws and nibbled on it. The grin on her face couldn’t be restrained and without even thinking about it, she shot it over her shoulder at House.
“He likes it,” she said happily.
House was on the verge of grinning stupidly himself, but he stopped in the nick of time although Cameron caught the twitching around his eyes. “Of course he likes it. It’s food from the hand of a babe. What’s not to like?”
“Nice,” Cameron said with exasperation, making her way back to the sofa. “First lobby art, now a babe. Is that a lateral or upward career move?”
Her words masked the fact that she was thrown off-balance by his remark, although they did nothing to control her blush. He’d never exactly been shy about making comments about her and to her, but that was at the hospital, where they could easily be pushed aside as part of his irreverent work style. Here at his townhouse, just the two of them and Steve, it was harder to figure out if there was a deeper meaning behind his snaky comments.
“Food’s getting cold,” was his reply, and Cameron decided to let it drop.
What should have been a completely awkward meal was only partly so, with House turning on the television, as usual, and Cameron slipping into the comfortable niche she’d formed for herself before New Year’s Eve. They ate and watched General Hospital and sniped at the bad acting and implausible plotlines. As soon as she’d finished her meal, Cameron let Steve out of his cage, and she finished watching the show with him perched on her shoulder.
House wasn’t sure when that had all become almost normal, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling that such domesticity set to churning in the pit of his stomach. This would never work. It hadn’t worked with Stacy. Why would it work with Cameron? He was crazy for even letting her come over.
“Looks like Steve is going for second base,” he commented as the rat nibbled at Cameron’s neck and eased himself towards her cleavage. His tone was sharp and hard, making her look towards him in surprise.
“What’s the matter? Jealous?” she snapped back.
“Well, in the short term, Steve may satisfy you, but he snores and sleeps late and refuses to talk about his emotions,” he replied, feeling himself settle into the familiar bantering mode that had served him so well for so long.
“Sounds just like his father,” she countered one eyebrow raised in challenge.
House hadn’t expected a comeback. He’d expected her to softly demure and give him the chance to lob another insult and then another and another until she gave up playing house and left. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen and he stared at her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, reassessing the situation.
“You’re feisty tonight,” he said, leaning back with an air of nonchalance which he wasn’t really feeling.
“Life is short,” she said, serious rather than playful as she had been a second earlier. “I’m trying not to waste it anymore.”
Knowledge of exactly what had recently reinforced that viewpoint for her made his stomach tense. It was an automatic response now every time he thought about it. He’d tried to avoid doing so.
“You’re due to get your test this week,” he said abruptly.
She blinked a few times, mildly surprised that he hadn’t responded to her with another bantering remark.
“I know,” she said. “I have an appointment on Thursday.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the television. He couldn’t make her leave, so he would ignore her instead.
“You kissed me,” she said suddenly, causing House to snap his head around to face her.
“What?”
“New Year’s Eve,” she clarified as if such explanation was necessary. “You kissed me. Should I be expecting that to happen again? Or was that it? A one time thing, with me as a stand-in for the ex you’ve decided you’re through with after all.”
“Feisty and blunt,” House said, buying himself some time to come up with an answer.
“I’ve been blunt before,” she said simply, and he realized that she was right. Aside from the lack of venom, her honesty at times had rivaled his own.
“You’re nothing like her,” he said, as if that was enough of an answer.
She kept her eyes trained on his face but didn’t say anything. She wanted more, but she didn’t want to have to drag it out of him. Her expression was one of guarded openness, as if she was ready for anything he might say.
“I don’t do well with direct questions. You know that,” he said sharply.
A tired sigh preceded Cameron’s next words. “I know.” She stood up and walked over to Steve’s cage, settling him gently inside and rubbing him softly behind the ears. “I should go.”
House lurched to his feet. This was what he’d wanted. Right? Her gone. Things back to normal. Pre-Stacy. Pre-kiss. Pre-feelings that conflicted with the way he’d chosen to live his life. Alone. Except that tight feeling in his stomach was back and it didn’t have anything to do with her HIV status.
He followed her to the door where she tugged her coat on and glanced back over at Steve’s cage.
“If you need me to watch him, or check in on him for you…I’ll still do that,” she said.
“Of course you will. Because you’re Allison Cameron. All-around good person,” he said, only lightly sarcastic.
“Right,” she responded, staring into his eyes and trying to see through them to what he was really thinking, as if to see that would be to understand everything and to recapture that hope she’d nursed for two long months.
She was half-way out the door when he grabbed her and pulled her back, mashing his lips against hers and snuggling her body tight to his own. She felt his heat, his heart, his breath, and she gasped into the kiss, opening her mouth and letting his tongue explore. This was like New Year’s Eve, but magnified. Needier. Hungrier. More desperate. She clung to him and this time his arms stayed around her and held her closer with every heartbeat. It ended with the two of them wrenching themselves away and staring at each other as if stunned by what had just happened.
“Another tradition?” Cameron asked quietly.
“Maybe,” House replied.
Cameron’s breath was still ragged, but it settled down as she stood there memorizing the scruffy face leaning over her. She reached up one hand to lightly touch his jaw.
“Maybe,” she repeated.
“I’ll perform your test for you tomorrow. My office. Nine a.m.”
She started to shake her head but he tightened the grip he still had on her shoulders. “All right,” she agreed quietly.
House looked over at Steve’s cage. The little rat was curled up in a thick pile of bedding. “Looks like you tired him out. You sure know how to show a rat a good time.”
“He’s probably the best valentine I ever had,” Cameron said lightly, continuing to pull herself together.
“Takes after his namesake.”
“Obviously.”
They hovered there, in his doorway, the cold air pushing past them and into the room while they stared at each other awkwardly. House knew the salutation he was expected to give, but wouldn't, the same way he would never buy a heart-shaped box of chocolates or a sappy card. He knew, but more importantly, she needed to know, too.
“I’m not going to say it,” he said as the wind blew a few flakes of snow into the entry way.
“I know you aren’t,” she replied as she slowly broke away and started down the stairs, with the smallest, sensitive smile on her lips. “But that won’t stop me,” she continued. “Happy Valentine’s Day, House,” she called out softly.
He shook his head and watched her get into her car. He wouldn’t say the words, but he was thinking them as she drove away.